The Selection
by Kamije Celeek
Summary: AU: In a Canada ruled by a monarchy, Prince Noah has just become of age to both take the throne and go through a process to choose his bride called the Selection. Twenty girls are brought from all over the country to compete for his heart and the crown. However, the lines between commoner and royalty begin to blur as time goes on and Noah begins to fall in love...


**This story is based off my favorite book series of all time.**

 _ **The Selection**_ **by Kiera Cass.**

 **If you haven't heard of this series, here's a little bit of background.**

 _ **The Selection**_ **series takes place in the future, where North America has become one country—Ill** **é** **a. This means that the countries of Canada, America, and Mexico have fallen and now, in their place, is a monarchy. Ill** **é** **a is broken up into thirty-five provinces, all of which are further broken up into numbered castes. Each caste has specific duties. Ones are the royalty, the king, queen, and their respective families. Twos are pop stars and movie stars. Threes are teachers and scientists. Fours run shops and hotels. Fives are entertainers, like singers, musicians, and artists. Sixes are the servants. Sevens do work like construction and tending fields. Eights… Eights are considered the lowest of the low: beggars, the homeless, criminals, prostitutes, and all of those outcasted by the other seven are Eights.**

 **The big thing is that each generation, the prince of Ill** **é** **a, the one first in line for the throne, is expected to choose a girl—an honored Daughter of Ill** **é** **a—to be his queen. This is done by each eligible girl in the country submitting an application and a photo. From these applications, one girl from each province is Selected to be the possible new queen and is brought to the palace to compete for the prince's heart. The prince will then whittle down the candidates to what is called the Elite, and from the Elite, he will select a bride. The country gets a queen, the girl gets to live in luxury for the rest of her life, and the prince gets a wife. Everybody—except the rebels—is happy.**

 **Now, in** _ **The Selection**_ **—at least, in the original trilogy—the story focuses on one of the Selected girls name America Singer. My story will not. My story will alternate between one of the Selected and the prince. Now, because** _ **Total Drama**_ **doesn't have enough female contestants to make a large Selection like in the books, my Selection will have twenty girls instead of thirty-five.**

 **Onto the story!**

* * *

Has anyone ever told you, 'if I hear about that one more time, I'm going to kill myself?'

Have you ever wanted to say it yourself?

That's how I felt right now, but I couldn't say it. I was talking to my dad, and he's the king of Canada. I couldn't just say that to him. Especially since what he's talking about is essential for my future. I'm going to be king next, and I couldn't just blow it off. Jobs are important, especially if you're me. And if you're in charge of an entire country?

Well, that's just the icing on the cake of my life.

I hadn't asked to be born into the royal family of Canada. I hadn't asked to be a One. No, somebody saw a skinny kid with no physical strength and thought, 'hey, wouldn't it be funny to put him on Earth as next in line to the throne of the most powerful country in the world? And why don't we give him a sharp mind and a sarcastic attitude, too? That would be _hilarious_!'

Great joke.

"…Noah!"

My head snapped up at my father's voice. He was giving me a stern glare and I realized I'd been daydreaming for the past few minutes.

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked.

"I said that you need to show a little initiative in helping to run this country. How are you going to be king if you can't even pay attention to your father?"

"Well, to be fair, when I take the throne, I'm going to run the country my own way. This way works for you, but not for me. And Mom agrees."

"Speaking of your mother…"

I groaned. Now we were onto a topic that I had been avoiding like the Bubonic plague.

Marriage.

"You turn nineteen next week, son. Your Selection will be here before you know it."

"I know. And I wish I didn't have to do this. It's stupid."

"It's how your mother and I met. And I want you to find that same happiness."

"You're bringing twenty strangers into our house. One of them is bound to be a psychopath."

"That's why there's an application process, son. Each girl is carefully assessed before being Selected."

"Mostly Twos and Threes."

"With Fours, Fives, and Sixes thrown in for good measure."

"Whatever."

"The girls will be chosen the week after your birthday. And they'll be here two weeks after that."

A month. I had a month to prepare.

I needed to talk to somebody semi-sane.

* * *

"A Selection? Great! More girls around here."

"Not helping, _Carol_."

"It's Coral, Royal Pain-in-the-Ass."

I sighed and let out a laugh.

Carol Marie Jennings-McClean, otherwise known as simply Coral, was the only person my age around the palace. Her older brother was the host of _The Canadian State_ , the premier news show in Canada and the only one that the royal family willingly appeared on. He was sixteen years older than us, and he'd gotten his spot when I was four. Coral had come to live with him around that time and she and I had become good friends. With her slight tan, long, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and petite frame, she was considered a beauty by many of the guards, but neither of us had an interest in each other. We were more like brother and sister.

Hence why she was the only person who could speak to me so casually at the moment.

"You're missing the point." Coral fired an arrow at the target in front of us. "There's going to be twenty girls—twenty girls _nobody in the palace knows_ —all vying for my affection." I fired an arrow. It hit closer to the middle than hers did.

"Not necessarily," Coral stated. "You'd be surprised at their reasons for being here. Not all of them are here just for you."

"Then _enlighten_ me. Why else would they be here?"

"Uh, the _crown of Canada_? Being seen next to Chris on _The Canadian State_? Fame? Glory? The huge payout their families get for them competing?"

"Payout?"

"Fives and below don't have much in the way of cash, so most of the time, everyone in the family works. The families get paid in exchange for letting one of their sources of income try to become the next queen."

"How come nobody tells me any of that?"

"Because you're a _One_. You shouldn't be concerning yourself with the lower castes unless they rebel." She fired another arrow—a lucky shot that splits mine down the middle. "Yeah!"

"I'm the prince. I _should_ concern myself with them. Since when do you care about my caste?"

"I don't. I'm just giving the reasoning your dad might've had for keeping you in the dark about this."

"Well, that sounds like him." I sat down on a rock. "It's just so stupid that the country's divided like that."

"I've been saying that for _years_ , but nobody listens because I'm just a Two. You're a One. You say it, they've gotta listen."

She had a point. I glanced over at her and smirked snarkily.

"So, you putting your name in?"

"Hell no. I think I'll sit back with some popcorn and watch the bloodbath."

"Bloodbath?" My eyes widened with worry.

"Haven't you ever seen girls fight? It gets _nasty_."

"Okay, now I'm scared."

"Don't be." Her smile widened. "I already knew this was coming. I read the rulebook, and they aren't allowed to get into physical altercations. If they do, they're automatically ejected from the competition."

"Will you please give me that rulebook?"

"Sure. I stole it from Chris's desk, anyway."

I fired one last arrow.

It hit dead center.

* * *

My birthday arrived and it was the big celebration it always was.

There was a massive party, a huge cake, and visitors from all over the world. Only the royal families, of course, with a few high-ranking Canadians tossed in. Coral was invited, thank God, but the party itself was boring as hell. It was only a formality, since according to law, I was now of age to inherit the throne. Yay.

"You must be looking forward to the Selection," one of the dignitaries from Spain stated. He was my age but I didn't trust him. He was… _slippery_ , like an eel dipped in grease swimming in motor oil. "Many beautiful women will be coming from all over your country to try for your hand."

"Not really," I admitted to him. "I actually think the whole thing is stupid and demeaning."

"Hm. Well, I'm certain you'll find the next queen." He walked away to talk to Coral, where, by her expression, he was clearly flirting with her.

"Son!" my mom greeted me. "Isn't it _great_ that you're of age now?"

"Yeah, great. Especially since I'm having a marriage forced on me. That makes it _fantastic_."

"Now, now, don't be so down about things! It'll be great and you'll start your reign on a high note."

"Whatever." I walked away and into the garden, where it was at least semi-quiet. I sat down in the fountain area, where my gaze landed on a statue of a man and a woman in a tender embrace.

Could I really find a woman to rule by my side?

The Selection was a dumb, antiquated ritual that had been in place since before my great-great-great grandfather was born. It had been used to find seven generations of queens, and now it would be used to find mine. Would I be as happy as my parents and grandparents had been? Or would it be the most superficial, vapid, stupid girls in the country and one of them would make Canada go the way of France in the 1700s? I wouldn't let it happen. I'd been working too hard for too long to run the country my way.

"You know, that's _exactly why_ it won't happen."

I yelped and turned to see Coral. Apparently, she'd snuck up on me and I'd been thinking aloud.

Again.

"How do you know that? We're one of the wealthiest, most powerful countries in the world."

"Because you're _you_. If your wife tried to overspend the way Marie Antoinette did, you'd clamp down on her spending like that beartrap did on Zeke's leg last spring."

"Heh. Thanks, Coral. Sure you don't wanna be in the Selection?"

"Positive. I'd have to wear frilly dresses and high heels. We both know that's not me. And why do you want me there? Got a crush?" She elbowed me in the ribs.

"Ow." I rubbed the spot. "Nope. I just need somebody semi-sane in the running."

"And there'll be someone. You know this isn't as much of a lottery as you think, right?"

"What?" I raised my eyebrows. I had been told that this was entirely random.

"Nope. They're carefully vetting the applications before they're even put in the drawing."

"Oh, thank God." I held my forehead. "Promise me you'll stick around. And give me advice."

"Of course I will. You're hopeless."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Coral."

"No problem."

The fireworks went off as I sat there with my best friend.

The Selection was about to commence.

* * *

"Are you ready, Your Highness?"

I looked up at the sound of Chris's voice. He was dressed in his tux for the big event. Normally, he wore a blue suit on _The Canadian State_ , but tonight, he'd gone for the tux he'd also worn to my birthday party the week before.

"As ready as I can be," I sighed, closing the rulebook I'd gotten from Coral as a birthday present. He glanced at it.

"Let me guess—my sister snagged the rulebook from my desk and gave it to you?"

"Yeah. Did you know that the girls are supposed to do _anything_ I ask of them, no matter what?"

"I read it. Seems sleazy, but that's how it's been since the Selection started."

"So, I could ask one to sleep with me and she'd have to do it? Isn't that _technically_ rape?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Your Highness."

Within a few minutes, I was sitting in a chair on the set as the cameras began rolling. Chris went through his typical opening speech, talking about major events that had happened earlier that week before the topic turned to the main event—me and the Selection.

"…and so, here is the list of lovely ladies competing in Prince Noah's Selection!

"Sky Huang, Two.

"Heather Chang, Two.

"Kaitlynn Jones, Three.

"Isabelle Thomas, Three.

"Samantha McAuley, Six.

"Amelia McAuley, Six…"

Wait. What the hell? Were those last two related? Why were they _both_ Selected? It made no sense. I chose to stare at the top of the screen upon which the pictures were appearing for the rest of the broadcast. I hadn't seen any of the pictures, due to me trying not to hurl as the reality sunk in that this was _happening_. I glanced at Coral for support, and she gave me a thumbs-up.

"I hope you'll all keep an eye out as the ladies arrive!" Chris finished. "This is Chris Mclean, and I'll see you next week on _The Canadian State_! Good night!"

I staggered off-set and collapsed on one of the 'green room' couches next to Coral.

"I'm going to die," I croaked to her.

"We're all going to die, but you're going to be fine for now. You're not used to having this much of the show focused on _you_." She leaned back. "I've got your back, dude."

"Thanks."

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks of semi-peace before my life got turned upside-down and I would have twenty girlfriends at once. Me, who's never even been interested in a girl before! I hoped Coral actually had my back, because I'd need her to help me survive the beginning of the Selection.

* * *

 **And done!**

 **This chapter took me two nights to write, surprisingly. You don't like it, you don't have to. I'm only labeling this one with Noah because I want my Selected girl that I focus on to be a surprise. Plus, people are more likely to find it this way!**

 **Next time, we meet our Selected.**

 **So long and thanks for all the fish!**


End file.
